Category: Mitzi- all day every day

It never ceases to amaze me how different teenagers are these days from when I was growing up. Like seriously, the sense of entitlement these kids have is just… . BEYOND.

Case in point, this 19 year-old Mexican girl Estibalis Chaves who’s been staging a hunger strike in front of the British Embassy in Mexico City for the past 9 days so that she can receive an invitation to Kate & Prince William’s upcoming royal wedding.

DEAD FISH EYES

Talking about, “Are they going to let me die just because they wouldn’t give me an invitation to the royal wedding?”

HUH?? Is this some kind of sick joke so that she’ll land a reality show? Cause forreal, this can’t be life.

For weeks, hundreds of innocent people in the Middle East have been losing their limbs & lives in a fight for BASIC human rights. And this fool ass chick is killing her damn self over a private event that has absolutely nothing to do with her, her family or even her own country???

*sucks the back of teeth completely clean*

Man listen… Someone please order her a pine box RIGHT now.

I’m so excited to celebrate President’s Day and know I’m actually honoring a Black man. Not just ones that supposedly did something for Black men. Supposedly.

With that said, in honor of the occasion, my girl and I are about to go see the film, I Am Number Four. Real talk, I haven’t been to the movies in forever and a day. So I sure hope this is worth my $12 plus popcorn, Coke and candy.

Cause you always gotta have popcorn and candy!

Oh and above is the trailer for the next movie that I’ll probably go see, Jumping The Broom. Why? Cause I’m officially in love with Paula Patton as the hapless lightskin romantic comedy lead. And whomever the hell that groom is can get it- several different ways. Don’t judge me, I’m 35. My hormones are a raging mess.

BLANK STARE (with a sly wink)

Anyhoo, hope everyone enjoys their day off- if they have it. If not, I’ll do my best for the both of us.

Oh yeah, had a surprise visit from one of my besties this morn. She was in the hood getting her hair done, or I should say chopped the hell off. It looks so amazing! She said she was felt like she was being oppressed by all the hair on her hair- how funny! Seems like short cuts are trending this year.


Speaking of surprises, the new Britney Spears video dropped. And I don’t hate it.

Her hair and body seem to have finally recovered from the train wreck that was her life.

Oh and for the record, that cat fight towards the end was BOSS.

Get it Brit Brit!

So Chris Brown has a new video out. Think I’m going to have to watch it a couple more times before I make a decision on how I feel about this song.

However, there is one thing that I’m decidedly against. All those freaking tattoos covering his arms and chest.

Yuck.

Now, don’t get me wrong- I’m not 100% anti-tattoo. One or two creative designs in a strategic location (preferably one that can be covered as necessary) can be extremely sexy- especially on a man with a fit physique. Mmm-hmm…

But when a grown man starts looking like a member of a traveling circus of freaks & oddities, a recent parolee or worse his body starts to get a little flabby and the designs stretch out?

BLANK STARE

And the more common tattoos become the less interesting they are to look at. Like how many times can I be impressed by a pair of hands praying, a dragon crawling out your abs, angel wings on your back, your zodiac sign or Japanese symbols of strength (at least that’s what the artist on 125th Street told you it was) across your knuckles??

Err-um, shock value= zero.

In all fairness, I understand Chris has been through a lot these past couple of years. And watching Rih Rih screech her way to Grammy Award probably doesn’t help. But how much more of said internal struggle does he need to advertise on his pectorals? Like, why not get a better therapist or wait on it- an anonymous twitter account? Just no more of the tats.

Please and thanks.

Normally, I don’t really get into the Fashion Week madness here in the city. Although I love fabulous clothes and the drama as much as the next person, the idea of sitting around gawking at emaciated human hangers prancing up and down a runway does absolutely nothing for me. At all.


Let’s just say, I’m more for the open bar/ free food afterparties. *shrug*

But this year, thanks to the kind folks at Diet Coke I actually had the pleasure of attending the Heart Truth Red Collection Runway Show. Held annually, it features some of our favorite actresses and celebrities wearing red dresses from different designers to raise awareness of heart disease amongst women and inspire us to take action to lower our level of risk.

And I have to tell you, I was impressed.

Not only was the pre-show panel extremely informative. Did you know heart disease kills more women than all forms of cancer COMBINED? But the stars turned out for the event- I had no idea Matthew McCougney could clean up so well. And the boys- from America’s Next top Model- Miss J, Jay and Nigel were doing the absolute MOST on the front row. And the actual celeb models were very impressive:

NBC’s Ann Curry was super cute, Camila Alves (Matt’s baby mama) has a body to D-I-E for, Dita Von Teese is the sexiest white woman on the planet, Laila Ali & her baby bump were jamming, few make divorce look better than Garcelle Beauvais, the size of Suzanne somers breasts was epic and nobody, I mean nobody could outdo Miss Patti prancing down the walk singing her own damn song.

Unfortunately, I spent too much time laughing and clapping at the catwalk antics to get any good pictures.

My bad, next year.

Um so yeah, for the record this hoodie-footie pajama gives me LIFE. L-I-F-E.


*shrug*

Yeah, I said it.

I mean I know that Valentine’s Day is around the corner and what not so we should all get our lingerie game up- even if you’ll just be wearing it for yourself- but as cold as it is? Man listen…

*zips all the way up*

Till the spring, mama is gonna need a real good reason.

These two were my absolute favorite Super Bowl commercials. Love the beaver’s subtle sign of solidarity. Hee Hee

O-M-G! Just finished reading a story about a Sports Illustrated writer that decided to track down a couple of the people that left him extremely nasty, personal, online comments (including a picture of hard core porn) in response to an article he wrote. Check it out HERE.


HEE-LARIOUS.

Talking about, when the first guy answered the phone and realized it was the sports writer he had just cussed out and sent an x-rated picture- cause homeboy really did call both commenters on their home phones- it was an ENTIRELY different story than the crude, profanity filled tirades they had written online:

“Without invisibility or the support of his 54 Twitter followers or the superhuman powers supplied by a warm keyboard, Matt was meek and apologetic. ‘I was just trying to get a rise out of you,” he said. “You’re a known sports writer, and I thought it was cool. That’s all. I never meant for it to reach this point.'”

Or wait on it.. the one who still lives at home with his freaking mother:

“… along with contacting Matt, I also tracked down Andy, a 23-year-old aspiring writer who tweeted of me: “jeff Pearlman and billy madison share an intelligence quotient (because jeff Pearlman is a f—ing retard).”
When I dialed a number I found for Andy, his mother answered. (I admit, this brought me great delight.) Andy was even more apologetic than Matt…”

Uh huh, I’ll bet.

*falls out laughing*

Now don’t get me wrong, everyone is entitled to an opinion. And you’re absolutely free to comment on/disagree with any and everything I publish. (In fact, hearing a different side of the story makes me more informed.) So please share. But there’s a HUGE difference between disagreeing and calling names/sending pornographic images to illustrate your disdain.

DEAD FISH EYES

So lesson of the day for all the internet thugs runnin’ amuck & poppin’ ish from behind your new iPads: The keyboard will only protect you so far.

Lames.

Gentle reminder, please say and prayer and if you can, drop a dollar (or more) on Haiti today.

Today officially marks a year since the earthquake literally tore the country apart. And it’s safe to assume, that even the dimmest bulbs amongst us should be able to understand that between the massive death toll, child abductions, delayed reconstruction, non-stop stream of gang rapes of women &children in the make-shift tent cities, and current cholera epidemic the small Caribbean country is still very much in need.

Do not behave like our former President and assume that because Bono has stopped organizing celeb charity concerts, it’s “mission accomplished.”

BLANK STARE

So I realize that I’m SUPER late with this but guess what? I. Don’t Care. I’ve been under a deadline rock for the past week and a half.


This video of a kid who looks to be about 14 years old getting his behind WHOOPED by his Uncle for posting fake gangster nonsense, threats and inappropriate thug bullshit on his Facebook page gave me LIFE this morning.

And when I say, LIFE? I mean, I was literally shaking and crying from laughter for five minutes straight. This might be the only reason I make it through the next 4 days.

Lemme tell you, not because I think watching someone get humiliated is funny. No. Easy. I told ya’ll I’m trying to be a better person in 2011.

On the contrary, all I could think as I watched the kid scurry in a circle trying to avoid each smack without actually running away from his Uncle (cause the two worst thing you could do in that situation were run or grab the belt) was, O.M.G, I KNOW that belt!!! I was RAISED with that belt!! It landed on my legs, thighs and back more times than I care to remember!! And I for damn sure been in the same cowered position, apologizing for acting like I didn’t have any good goddamn sense. Believe that.

And why? Because my parents taught me better than that. And we don’t come from that shit!!

I thank GOD EVERY day there was no cameras around when I was growing up!!

*makes the sign of the cross, presses play and falls out again*

Shout out to all the people who were raised by someone that loved them enough to whip-not BEAT- them when they were getting bigger than their britches.

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